Yesterday was my only-gay-best-friend’s birthday. Whenever I think of Caesar’s situation being alone in Pampanga and spending his special day far from family and real friends, I can’t help but recall the trials I have encountered during the times I felt alone in Baguio.

To feel alone does not necessarily have to be physical. It is purely subjective whatever the cause may be! Despite the fact that I had people who tried and are willing to keep me company and/or at least make me smile, I can only remember how everything seemed blank and futile in my eyes.

I have realized that there is a slight, if not big, difference between “just missing home” and “officially missing home”. To just miss home is what I felt when I was having my internship in far away hospitals. It is to miss with pure innocence. It is automatic and a form of regression back to our infancy and childhood when we used to feel the inner need for home that contained the basic love, trust, and safety.

On the other hand, officially missing home is everything stated above with the addition of utmost concern to the point worry. As long as these thoughts are not delusional, inevitably thinking of home is a struggle for survival. This occurred to me when I was living in Baguio.

During the times that I faced threats to my ego, safety, and general welfare, I could only think of being silent and nonreactive to avoid these threats from intensifying. Indeed, major problems including issues that I and my partner (ex-bf) had were no longer on the surface but unfortunately, they were also left unresolved. I was creating a vacuum within me and lost a lot of things. I lost my assertiveness and had to relearn it. I lost my self-esteem and had to reflect on my worth. I almost lost self-respect and could only think of one thing – ESCAPE! I wanted to be back to my comfort zone. I wanted to be back to home.

Now I ask myself how I survived those dilemmas. Probably it was the promise I made to my family and friends that I will go back home in one peace. Probably it was the newly built support system I had in my masters’ classes in the university. But, I guess it was my inner strength and the prayers I made that fostered the strength are what count the most.

During nights of fear and terror, I slept with a rosary tied in my hands and knew then that God offered another yet special kind of home. Every time I woke up in the morning clenching the beads of my little rosary, I no longer felt alone.